Heartbeat
by Austra
Summary: I would love him in a heartbeat. I would do anything for him in a heartbeat. But when the one thing comes along that I can't do for him, I'm sitting here, listening to his heartbeat. Hoping there is one. Won 1st for drama and romance!
1. Meeting

**Heartbeat:**

**Summary: I would love him in a heartbeat. I would do anything for him in a heartbeat. But when the one thing comes along that I can't do for him, I'm sitting here, listening to his heartbeat. Hoping there is one. **

It's a normal day. I was walking along down the street, doing my usual business of stealing and pick-pocketing.

I was about to reach into a lady's purse while she was preoccupied with buying something when a hand reached out and grasped my wrist.

I didn't even have to think. I flung myself around and punched the sucker full in the face.

He reeled, stunned. "Wha- wha- what-" he stuttered.

"Whaddya want?" I snarled, certain that he had caught me trying to steal. If I could maybe convince him not to get the bulls-

"I-I'm lost. I-I just wanted directions."

I relented a little. "Sorry. I thought you were- never mind. Where're you trying to get to?"

"I-I don't need directions, thank you," he said, metamorphosing into a stiff and cold attitude. He turned away.

"Fine," I shrugged, "suit yourself."

I walked on.

The mental image of his shocked sea-blue eyes continued to linger in my mind. I shook it off; I had more important things to worry about.

**A/N: *Cringes* I know it's a short chapter. I wanted to get this story up, because I just had so much inspiration for it. ****I know it's also a rather confusing beginning; but I assure you, all shall be revealed in the next installment.**

**** Please, do drop a line and tell me what you think!****


	2. Chanced Again

**Heartbeat:**

**Summary: I would love him in a heartbeat. I would do anything for him in a heartbeat. But when the one thing comes along that I can't do for him, I'm sitting here, listening to his heartbeat. Hoping there is one. **

I didn't see the curly-haired boy (who _had_ to have been an immigrant; people from New York didn't act the way that strange boy had) again for three days. When I saw him again, he was selling papers and walking beside a girl with lovely honey-colored hair. I snorted. _That wimp convinced some poor girl to be his broad? Pretty lofty achievement for someone like that pansy. _

I studied the way he, in a very gentlemanly way, escorted the girl over puddles and horse-messes and other such sundry things. The girl was carrying a basket, probably selling something, but I didn't pay any attention to her, and very soon didn't pay attention to the boy either.

Instead, I transferred my focus to what I was supposed to be doing: Stealing for my gang. So we could survive. Because I was the best of all the pickpockets and thieves. I didn't even consider stealing from them. If they _were_ immigrants, they wouldn't have much to steal. They wouldn't even know how to sell their products.

Following a flush-lady, I managed to get an entire _quarter_ without the ditz noticing! I flipped it as I walked down an alleyway and grinned from ear to ear. Boy, would Fire be pleased when he saw _this_ beauty!

I was stopped in my tracks as I heard footsteps running after me and a voice calling, "Wait! Wait!" I recognized the boy's voice, and remembering how last time he just wanted directions, I turned and faced him.

He didn't want directions.

"You stole that lady's money!"

Oh, we're just _so_ all-fired to do good, are we? We're just _so_ smart, are we? Just _such_ a little innocent._  
><em>

I nodded curtly and turned to walk. I felt no threat from this quarter. The police would sooner believe me than him, anyway.

"Wait!" His eyes were wide, and his voice was earnest. "That-that was just _wrong!_ That could have been that woman's whole week's pay!"

I was getting annoyed and I was, very much to my own amazement, moved to defense. "Look here, kid. That lady was just another rich cookie who wouldn't give poor people like us a second chance. I gotta live, you gotta live, she gotta live. We all look out for ourselves, see? And if everyone just takes care of themselves and minds their own business, everything'll work out fine, see?"

"You mean- we should all just be callous and care about ourselves?"

I shrugged; whatever callous meant, it obviously was _not_ a compliment, but I didn't care. "Yeah."

He shook his head as if trying to dislodge some kind of foul idea. "And supposing someone doesn't have the means to do that?"

"They die." I said briefly. It had happened to my little sister. After that, I just took care of myself. Taking care of others causes too much pain. "None of my concern. If you try to care about people like that, kid, then you'll just end up starving. Look out for yourself. It's a dog-eat-dog world out there."

He gaped, the put a hand on his hip and cocked his head, shaking it. "You... you're just so..."

"Careless? Tough? Heartless? Yeah, well, you don't survive on the streets if you ain't, kid. And you'd better learn that fast."

"I don't live on the streets," he said, going all stiff like he had yesterday.

I shrugged again; so he was one of those people that was lucky enough to live in some kind of tumbledown apartment. Maybe even had a whole family. That was none of my concern either. "That's nice." I turned to walk away.

Then he startled me yet again. "What's your name?"

I turned slowly, staring. "Why does it matter?"

"I-I just... asked..."

"...Lioness."

"David." He held out his hand.

I stared at it speculatively, then, slowly, spat in mine and (hesitating just before doing it) clasped his.

"G-goo-od to meet you," I said grudgingly, and to my surprise, it rather was.

He smiled genuinely, and I shook my head a little in incredulity. _He's a strange one!_

But I smiled in return.

I needed to get back to Fire. "...I-I'll... see you... later?"

"I sell by Greeley's statue sometimes. You know, the big one? In the-"

"I know the place." I said abruptly. I didn't mean to be rude. My sister had... had died there.

"Oh." He looked confused at my rude-sounding voice, but ventured, "So... I'll see you around there, maybe?"

"Yeah. Good to meet you, David."

He grinned again. "You too, Lioness."

* * *

><p>"Ya shouldna madd frands wi' him, Li!"<p>

"I'll choose who I _tell my name to,_ Fire." I said fiercely.

"He's frands wi' tha' Jack Kelly," Fire warned.

I drew in my breath. "I can take care of myself, Fire."

I could.

I could take care... I could take care... I didn't need anybody... I didn't trust anybody...


	3. Streets and Carving

**David's POV:**

I was furious. Fuming.

I was so angry, I wanted to throw a good, hard punch.

_Why _had I given that girl my name? Why? Why had I told her where I usually sold? Why did I even associate with her? Why did I care whether or not she stole or starved?

_Why?_

But it didn't matter. She'd probably forgotten all about me.

_Lioness, indeed. _I tried to convince myself. It didn't work._  
><em>

She probably never wanted to see me again.

_One of those cocky street types. _That didn't work either. _  
><em>

She was just another street rat. Just another pickpocket. Just another person who believed in only caring about themselves. Self-centered. Cruel.

And yet... and yet I found myself looking for her.

**Lioness's POV:**

The temptation was too great. It was overpowering.

I _had_ to... to... to steal... in the area where... where the statue was.

Argh, I can tell you're laughing at me. I'll just go ahead and say it straight out.

I wanted to see the boy- David -again.

In any case, I hadn't stolen there for quite some time. So, I made my way over there.

On my way, I contemplated.

_How long can I keep this up?_

**David's POV:**

Mixed feelings of excitement and apprehension filled me as I caught a glimpse of Lioness. For the first time since I'd met her, she wasn't stealing. She was cautiously creeping up towards the statue, her gaze darted from left to right, up and down.

She looked very sly, wary, and sneaky.

And a small part of me wished I could do that.

_Why can't I just be like the rest of the guys? Even this girl can... can be more street-wise than I can! _I wanted to fit in, to be one of them. I knew they mocked me for my more refined ways.

But I'd give _anything_ to be like them.

**Lioness's POV:**

Constantly on guard, I made my way over to the statue. Technically, I didn't really need to be worried. After all, I wasn't even on a job, and there were street rats everywhere. But being a thief and a street rat had taught me to be constantly wary, constantly looking for openings and attackers.

Sitting down at the foot (literally) of the statue, I took a knife (more of a dagger than a knife) out of my pocket and began to sharpen it (for lack of anything better to do with my hands), glancing around as I did so.

After sharpening it for about a minute and a half, I took a piece of wood out of another pocket and began to whittle. I had countless pockets. My clothes were so raggedy that you could never tell which rag was a pocket and which wasn't. Very handy they were, too.

Eventually, after about a half a minute of doing this, I spotted the newsboy- David, his name was.

I didn't know whether or not he'd noticed me, but I gave him a small smile, and continued to whittle. I made no attempt to move towards him.

I was concentrating on a very intricate part of the lion I was carving when an awed voice made me nearly jump clear out of my skin.

"That's amazing!"

I rolled my eyes in annoyance (mostly with myself) and said, in as snide a voice I could manage, "Thanks."

"Um... you're welcome." He sounded a bit nervous, but quickly became self-assured. "I really do like it. I can't carve, though Papa's tried to teach me."

_So he **does** have a family. _"Ay, well."

"C-could... could you teach me?"

I frowned slightly. "If your father already tried to-"

"Well, he... he got hurt in... in an accident. Before he could finish teaching me. So... so I was thinking..."

"That I could teach you." I finished for him. I thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Sure." I smiled. "Let's start with something simple." I produced another knife and proffered it.

"Now?"

"Why not?"

"Okay!" His eyes glowed as he took the knife gingerly. (I keep my knives _very_ sharp.)

"How about..." I hesitated. "A spoon."

So David Jacob's carving lessons began.


End file.
